Flores Para Los Muertos
by UnstableDarkHorse
Summary: Flores Para Los Muertos (Flowers for the Dead) is about a teenage boy named Antonio Carriedo Fernandez who's unhappy with life and believes people who enjoy it are idiots. His dream to become a famous author was abandoned until some people read some writing and are completely taken back. With his new friends, and new life, he hopes to stay happy. Will this happiness last forever?


_"Forever is a long, long time, and time has a way of changing things."_

Chapter 1: The Fatal Non-Believer

The school bell rung, and a lone student wandered aimlessly through the halls. He had tanned skin and faded green eyes, that seemed to be alive at some point, but had lost that sense of innocence so long ago. With a sigh he looked at his paper again making sure he was walking the right direction.

Years of this hardened his heart, made him cold with hatred, and his innocent young heart of yesterday was nothing but an imagination of what he'd like to be. Looking up at the sky, he cursed softly for being tardy, his dark brown hair bouncing softly with each painful step he took. When he arrived at the classroom, he opened the door quietly and took his seat swiftly. The students instinctively turned their heads to see who entered, and just as quickly turned back to their work.

He took his seat and sighed softly, wiping the small amount of blood trickling down the corner of his mouth from an even earlier in the day.

"Good morning," the teacher smiled kindly, "and who might you be?"

"Antonio Carriedo Fernandez," he said with a fake smile back.

"Well, my name is Elizaveta Hedervary, but you can call me Mrs. Eliza. I'm glad you're here!"

She looked energetic, and constantly happy. Antonio just smiled back, but couldn't help feel a tad bit of envy towards her. Before he knew it, lunchtime had finally arrived. He got in the lunch line and smiled a little, smelling the food.

"Move over!" A blonde yelled, shoving Antonio to the side. "I'm getting lunch first loser."

"I in line before you…" Antonio stated in his defense in his broken English.

The blonde boy just smirked. His sky blue eyes looked deceiving and full of lies, hidden with secrets beyond Antonio's comprehension.

"Fuck off dude," the blue eyes bore into Antonio's soul and made him go to the back of the line.

_TIME SKIP_

After school, he grabbed his pack from the lockers and headed to the parking where his mother would pick him up. He had faint recollections of the beating he'd received before coming to school and shivered. Trying to forget, Antonio glanced around and saw students bunched together, conversing and arguing about in their friendly ways. It hit him like bullets, the twinge of jealousy that he couldn't have a simple life similar to theirs, but he just sat under his tree and pulled out a journal and wrote:

**_August 23_**_:_

_Dear Journal,_

_Writing is the only escape from life, the best way to leave the real world and realize things in an individual's lonely world. Why believe in something moronic when you're just a fatal non-believer? Belief in the concept of a 'happy life' and that 'things will get better' is completely __**idiotic**__. I just wish my life would be perfect, but trust in me when I tell you it isn't. People always pity me; try to help me, teach me. I don't want to learn the way of the idiots that press on the matter like relentless slave drivers. In fact, __**they**__ need to learn. They are the ones trying to seek the real person in people like me, but they can dig up the truth like the remnants of things before. It's not that easy._

_Father died just a little before the miracle of the school accepting me. He never got to see me go and earn the things I would've gladly tried to earn had it not been for this life I suffer living. Mother's lost it too, drinking like a helpless addict, refusing my advice to venture to rehab and get better. She often hits me and yells that I'm nothing but a helpless boy with no future, no friends, and that I'm just a nobody,_

_She's right…she's always been right._

_Truly Yours,_

_Antonio, the Fatal Non-Believer._

He finished writing and placed his journal back in his pack. Once, he had a dream to become a great writer, but then it all went down hill, and the dream was gone with the softest gust of wind, and was and empty balloon that needed slight faith to be inflated again.

His mother called him on the phone. "Antonio Carriedo! Where are you?!" She yelled, obviously drunk.

"Walking home. Forget picking me up, I'll be home before dark." He lied and hung up. Antonio knew he was screwed when he got home, yet he still walked somewhere. He was obviously not sure where, but sooner of later he'd find his way back home.

**UnstableDarkHorse: Hello there, I'm the author of this story (well no duh) and I just wanted to say thanks for reading. :) This is my first fanfiction so leave reviews and all that good stuff.**


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